"IMAGINOR":Hour Of Magic....

I fear of a man standing next to me. I fear of an array of dark clouds gathering, forming into a giant,little by little on the horizon. And I saw a flash of terror while walking over a small railway footbridge, lights on its roof flickering in a perfectly cold winter night. I can't let some words be spoken. I am cautious about the unforseen consequences. I live in fear,I live in hope but I can't perceive the exuberence of the present. I am the cynic.I am the critic. I laugh at people but I don't have the will to confront myself. What mockery can be greater than this?

The one word in one good conversation between two silhouettes, standing somewhere on a foot bridge. They parted in a good note,maybe or in a bad,maybe. What is it in a conversation which ends up in nothing and somewhere in time we are left with that little piece of "nothing". Just like finding a forlon,dusty frame of picture or a novel. And we smile And we cry And we feel something. What is it in love.How stupid are we that we can't capture the moment to cross the line that separates a perfect world and a dreadful world. What is it in passion.How stupid are we not to have one and obliged to follow what is written on the wall. What is it the bunch of flowers.The smell just fade away in front of our eyes and we don't get a feeling what's gone. What is it in the last train.The eerie feeling as it whistles by. All the simple things doesn't really have a simple answer.God did not make us this way.Or did He?He doesn't have the power to control us.I believe. How ...